An Education
by thinkatory
Summary: MCU-verse. Pepper and Natasha let Tony know they're going to have sex. This would turn out exactly what you would think it would, except Tony Stark is Tony Stark.


**Note: MCU-'verse.**

**An Education**

**- Lesson 1**

Tony just looks at Pepper and Natasha, who are sitting on the couch across the table, calm and reasonable even though they are making zero sense. "Can you repeat that?" he asks, blankly.

"I'm going to fuck Natasha," Pepper says patiently. "Just a test run. I'm telling you in the interest of full disclosure."

"And - wait. No," Tony says, still stuck on this. "But you're. And she's. What? You're punking me. This is Punk'd. It's not April Fool's so it has to be Punk'd - "

"Punk'd has been canceled for a while now," Pepper points out.

Tony Stark is at a loss for words. _Tony Stark_ is at a loss for words.

Natasha's perfectly subtly amused face suffers the slightest crack in facade as the side of her mouth turns up. "It's a dated reference, Stark."

"I know it's a dated reference, how much TV do you watch, anyway? Do you secretly DVR Real Housewives?" He's automatically bantering because his mind is supplying him with fantastic imagery of the two redheads in the sack, and it's hard - _difficult_ - oh, fuck. "Are you serious? Tell me you're serious."

"I'm always serious," Pepper says, in that casually ironic way, and his eyebrows lift at her. "I take it we have your permission, then."

"Do you need my signature?" _Oh, shut the fuck up, Tony. _"Okay! Well! Yes. Yes," he clarifies magnanimously. "You may. You may have a lesbian tryst. Enjoy yourselves. Preferably with a camera involved. JARVIS, do we still have - "

"Tony," Pepper interrupts, not unkindly. "We'll invite you along when we damn well feel like it. All right?"

He looks at Natasha, whose not-smile is bigger than ever.

"All right," he says, and exhales. "I'm. I'm going to leave. You enjoy yourselves. I'm going to take a shower." He grabs a magazine from the table, holds it strategically against himself, and leaves, almost entirely sure they'll laugh at him the moment he's out of earshot.

Oh hell, it's worth it.

* * *

><p>It occurs to Tony that night, when he's lying in bed alone, awake, that Pepper might have been joking, and he is the biggest idiot on the planet (galaxy? universe? there are all kinds of possibilities). They could be downstairs watching chick-flicks eating popcorn and talking about what a jackass he is for thinking all women want to bone each other and be boned by Tony Stark. This is not a pleasant realization.<p>

He's supposed to be enjoying this. Picturing it! Imagining the "invitation" into their double-vagina world. He's already jerked off to the idea, but it's _Pepper and Natasha_, he's already imagined them banging and him joining in back when she was Natalie Rushman, and the black catsuit only made it worse. But - and here's the horrible part -

What if Pepper becomes a lesbian?

He stares up at his ceiling in horror.

It's not that lesbians are bad. It's not that he's a homophobe. It's all cool by him. Live and let live, so long as there's a sapient intelligence in there, enjoy. It's the whole Ross from Friends Scenario, where you lose the girl after _she_ fucks a girl. Lesbians don't want the D, and that is just about all he has to offer Pepper, okay.

_Fuck._

Natasha's a spy. She's like James Bond with tits and a fine ass. And everyone knows James Bond knows his way around a pussy; he'd be even better at it if he was a chick and had the equipment too.

Tony's so fucking screwed. He's about to lose his girlfriend to a Russian.

He can only imagine what his father would have to say to that.

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes after he has something similar to a panic attack, he goes downstairs to the bar. Pepper and Natasha are notably not down there, laughing at him behind his back, and he's not sure whether that's a good or bad thing. He pours himself one scotch, then another, then another, and then he's comfortably drunk, watching the episodes of Only In America with Larry the Cable Guy that he has on DVR.<p>

"Holy shit, he's jerking off a dog," he says, to the empty room. "JARVIS, is this actually a thing, or are these assholes fucking with me?"

"Artificial insemination of female dogs is indeed a 'thing,' sir," JARVIS answers, without missing a beat, and pulls up charts and videos.

"That's enough JARVIS, thank you," Tony says hurriedly. "It's bad enough I'm watching this now, I don't need this in my search history."

"Your 'search history' is voice- and handprint-locked, sir," JARVIS reminds him.

"Yeah, well, wipe 'jerking dogs off' out of there, would you? It's a matter of principle."

"Of course, sir."

Tony considers having another scotch, then he decides to graduate to mixed drinks so strong they'd peel the designer paint off of the wall. As he's pouring this masterpiece, he hears footsteps, and looks up to see Pepper standing there in comfortable disrepair, all sex hair and big t-shirt and panties.

"Hi," he says, in his best, upbeat, casual, not-at-all-concerned-you've-left-me-for-the-hot-Russian voice. "How's it hangin'?"

"Let me guess," she says. "Five drinks? No, six."

"This is seven," he confirms. "Are you going to send me to Al-Anon again?"

"You tend to walk out the back door," she reminds him.

He raises a finger. "I stayed that once - "

"And were thrown out for making fun of everyone else. Tony." Pepper's eyeing him. "Stop drinking."

Tony is only slightly crestfallen, due to his blood-alcohol level. "But I just made a drink. It'll go to waste."

She barely nods. "Last one," she warns him, and takes a seat on the couch.

He finishes mixing the drink and saunters over to sit next to her. "So," he says amiably. "Enjoy your trip to Mother Russia?"

Pepper rolls her eyes. "I'm glad you asked. It was fine."

Tony speaks before he can stop himself. "Fine? Just fine?" He doesn't know if he's relieved or what. But what if she's lying? Shit. "Well, okay then, if you're not satisfied - "

The look on Pepper's face stops him talking entirely. He's not sure if he's ashamed or what but it's like she can see into his soul. It's not the first time he's seen this look, not by a long shot, but it's the first time it's been this embarrassing. She _knows,_ and she knows he knows she knows.

"It's okay," she says to him, and touches his face. She's not being sappy, or consoling, just matter-of-fact. "Everything's okay."

What's he supposed to say to that? "Pepper - " he starts, not sure where he's going with this.

Luckily she cuts him off. (Probably she knows he has no idea what to say next.) "She's my friend," she says. "She's gorgeous. She's a great lay. But she's not you."

"Oh," Tony says. He doesn't sound nearly as confident as he'd like to; his voice is almost small. So he remedies that, pompously going on, "Well, that's a hell of a metric to live up to. Me, I mean. Can't fault her for it."

Pepper doesn't look at him directly. "You're not completely here," she says. "I know you're here, but you're not _here_. You haven't been for a long time."

He clears his throat. "Come on, Pepper - "

"Sometimes I just need someone to be with me," she says, and meets his gaze. She's hurting; that's all he can see in her eyes. "For real. And until you're ready, I... I think maybe we should..."

The instant he realizes what she's saying, the inferiority complex hits him like Thor's stupid hammer. He's never felt so inadequate. "You're breaking up with me," he says.

"_What_?" Pepper's voice rises, indignant. "No!"

"We're not even Facebook official and you're breaking up with me," Tony declares, as refuge in audacity is better than the alternative.

"We're not Facebook official because I don't use Facebook!"

Tony has to fight that one. "You do use Facebook!" he points out.

Pepper is astounded. "Not like that! Are you seriously - "

This is more comfortable than the actual fight they were going to have. "I see you liking Happy's statuses! And you're on the Stark Industries account all the time!"

"Because for someone self-centered you are absolutely _terrible_ at PR!"

"Pepper, come on. I'm the king of PR."

Someone clears their throat in the split-second after Tony finishes talking and before Pepper can get out another word, and she and Tony both look up to see Natasha there, wrapped up in one of Tony's robes. Natasha arches an eyebrow as silence settles in around them, then says, "We should talk."

"Well, yeah. You stole my girlfriend," Tony says, and it's completely immature but he couldn't give two fucks right now, if ever.

"You're an idiot," Natasha says, blunt as ever. "Pepper, maybe you should step out."

Pepper sits up. "_Excuse me_?" she pronounces. "I'm not going to let you do anything so stupid as fight over me, either of you, can we not?"

"I'm game," Tony says immediately.

Natasha looks weary. "I'm not going to fight him for you. I'm not stealing your girlfriend. Pepper, please."

Pepper looks at Natasha, and there's a pause where some sort of agreement is made, but women are hard enough to read when they're trying to communicate with you, nonetheless with their own kind, so he has no idea what happens there. But Pepper leaves so stridently Tony is sure he's not going to get laid tonight.

Natasha looks at Tony, her arms crossed and keeping the robe close to her body. "Stark," she says, tonelessly. She scares him a little, if he's going to be honest with himself. She's almost impossible to read, and when she's readable, she's probably doing it on purpose and doesn't mean it at all.

"Romanov," Tony answers, with a stiffly cordial nod. "What can I do for you?"

She glances away, exhales, and he can see the gears turning in her head. "She loves you," she says, mildly. "You know that."

"Yeah, something like that," Tony says. "And?"

"And you should be grateful. She's fantastic."

"I know," he says, annoyed. "That's why I'm dating her."

Natasha tenses, then starts to speak, steadily, determined. "I haven't done this," she says. "I haven't done this in a long time. Not for real. I haven't cared about people. I haven't been able to. There's only been - " Her jaw tenses. "I haven't had many _options_, Tony."

Tony blinks. She said his _name_. His actual name. "You?" he says, blankly. "You're joking, right?"

Her shoulders have collapsed inward, she's making herself small, and she doesn't seem to be able to meet his gaze. "I'm not," she says.

Empathy isn't a thing he's done often. Here it is, though. He's looking at her and this is the most vulnerable he's ever seen the deadly Black Widow. The unflappable Natasha Romanov, the incredible untouchable Natalie Rushman. "You look like you need a hug," he says, before he can stop himself, and opens his arms. "Come on. Come to Papa."

Natasha looks directly at him and he almost flinches, her glare so sharp and wounded that he shakes his head and looks away. "Uh, sorry."

"It's nothing." She shakes her own head, and looks at the robe she wears, picking at the sleeve. "Can I trust you, Stark?"

"Depends," he says, cautious but flippant as ever. "What are you trusting me with?"

"A secret," she answers. She approaches the couch with baby steps, finally taking a seat near him. "Did you believe in Santa Claus?" she asks, finally, after a long silence.

"Nah," Tony says. "Dad wasn't into the whole superstition thing. Besides, that'd require him to think about what I wanted instead of having my nannies fill out a registry."

"You take my point," Natasha says, a little exasperated. "You must have believed in something. Something that you expected would come to you one day. Something that you had earned, something that you believed would prove to you that just being you, not just what you could do, made you worthy."

Tony looks at her. "Yeah," he says, at long last. "Something like that."

"I didn't have that," she says. "Not after a while. I just had orders."

"Preaching to the choir, sister," he says, putting his hands up.

"No," Natasha insists. "I didn't have parents to expect anything of me. I didn't have anything. I just had my orders."

This is all very disconcerting. "Okay," he says, uncertain.

"I want to know what it feels like," she says, and she's leaning closer to him and it's almost as though she's going to touch him, but that would be one step too far, is how it feels. "It's been so long. I want to - I want to care for someone. I want to love someone, and for them to love me."

"Well. Yeah, okay." He pauses. "Pepper's taken, though," he says.

"Meet me halfway, Tony," Natasha says. She's searching his face, and he's feeling incredibly vulnerable all at once; how did she do that? "I don't want to take her from you. I just want to learn from you."

"From - " He cocks his head, confused. "Sorry, you lost me."

"I don't know how to do this. One day I want to. But I need help. They broke me," Natasha says, sharply, hollowly, and it strikes Tony, hard, that he's being a total fucking dick, kind of. "I just want to try. And I've broken too many people before. You two, I can't break you." There's the slightest pause, before she adds, with that tinge of Russian irony, "Probably. But you won't let me break her, and she won't let me break you."

Tony looks at her, silent, thoughtful, thinking as fast as ever. "Both of us," he repeats. "I didn't think you liked me."

"I didn't," she says without hesitation, apparently quite genuinely. "But the way she talks about you, Stark... I'm willing to try."

Something weird is happening here. Something emotional and deep and something that Tony Stark isn't really capable of dealing with unless Dr. Phil was in the room with them too. But whatever it is, he's feeling a lot better about the random lesbian tryst that wasn't all that random, he guesses, and for some reason, Natasha is just different there in front of him. She looks small in Tony's robe, shy and withdrawn with the slightest tinge of a blush in her cheeks, and most of all, she seems _human_.

He reaches out to touch her. Not to grope her or bro-fist her, but just to touch her arm, and she moves away first before she corrects herself and moves closer to him. Nobody's talking, but something is happening. He touches her face, then, and it's warm under his hand. "Only if you want to," he says, quietly.

"I do," she says, in the same soft undertone. "I knew you would understand."

He doesn't think twice about it, he kisses her, briefly, chastely, then again, and she exhales slowly after they break, still close.

"I'm learning, too," Tony says.

Natasha's mouth quirks upward again, and the other side, and he kisses her smile to broaden it ever so slightly.

"Are you ready yet?" Pepper asks from the doorway, and Tony jerks away from Natasha, who doesn't seem to be surprised at all.

"Yes," Natasha answers, matter-of-fact. "We're ready."

"Wait, seriously?" Tony asks, astounded. "We're, you know, doing the - "

"Shut up, Tony," Pepper says, fondly. "Before we change our minds." She leaves, Natasha sauntering after, and he mouths haplessly as the situation sinks in. Then he follows just as closely after, rambling happily like an idiot. If this is the kind of education Pepper wants him to get, he's determined to get a four-point-O average.


End file.
